


Tear Off My Skin and Wrap Me In Your Will

by Mr Son (MrSon)



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Bondage, Hand Job, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:05:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4708679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSon/pseuds/Mr%20Son
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rythian invited Duncan to a meeting on neutral ground. He wasn't sure what he wanted to happen, but this wasn't it. Sometimes what you don't want is better than what you do.</p><p>(Note to the Yogscast: Do not read any of my fics on stream.)<br/>(I do not support the Yogscast company. I write because I enjoy the characters.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tear Off My Skin and Wrap Me In Your Will

**Author's Note:**

> This fic exists because of a picture and the conversation about the picture, which can be boiled down to [this post to my Tumblr](http://dreadlord-mr-son.tumblr.com/post/128086202044/94006-pm-mr-son-i-dunno-how-obvious-it-is), which includes a link to the picture in question.

=== === ===

The tower might have been Rythian's, but the town was Kim's and despite her association with the man in question, it made a good neutral ground to meet with Duncan. Better than taking him to the desert town that was Rythian's home. It would be worse than inviting a fae in. At least Kirindave would only tsk at him for his disdain of technology and eat all his biscuits. And far, far better than going to Duncan's home. To place himself under Duncan's power that thoroughly. Which wasn't rational, because what else was this supposed to be? But that was Rythian's limit, and he wouldn't cross it. Not this night, at least.

No, this night he was dragging his bed into the middle of the room. He'd made a good choice to have his bedroom here above the library, close to what felt like the highest seat of his power in a place that wasn't truly his. A place he had only so much control over. But enough, just enough.

The door opened below and Rythian twitched, wanting to go down and meet him at the door. But they'd discussed this. The limits. What things would mean. And Duncan had to come to him. And Rythian had to wait for him, had to let Duncan enter his tower and take his own time.

Rythian glared at the bed and decided it was fine where it was. It was close enough to the center of the room and it didn't matter if it was crooked. It didn't matter. Did he care that much about symmetry? Well, a little. He poked the bed over a bit. There, good enough.

Below there were footsteps, starting and stopping. Like Duncan was wandering around looking at things. Rythian threw himself on the bed and gripped the pillow, strangling it and picturing Duncan's face.

There was the unmistakable whoosh of an elevator, then more footsteps. Duncan was in his library. Duncan was _in his library_. It was fortunate the pillow did not actually need to breathe, because Rythian's grip could have strangled an elephant. After an unbearably long time, there was another whoosh, and Duncan was in the room with him.

Rythian breathed, deep and heavy, controlled. See? He still had this under control. So what if Duncan was carrying _one of his books_. And a coil of rope, but it was easier to focus on the book. Easier to get angry, even if he wasn't allowed to act on it. Allowed to! Rythian released the pillow and sat up.

Duncan tossed the book up in the air and caught it again. Once. Twice. Three times. Rythian snarled the fourth time it went up. Duncan looked at him, and dropped his hand, letting the book fall to the floor. Rythian winced. Now there was going to be a dent in the spine and _damaging his books_ had not been part of the discussions and Rythian should have said something when he saw it, should have told Duncan to put it back. Should have-

Duncan kicked the book aside. "Well, I suppose you don't want a bedtime story, then?"

Rythian snarled again. It was easier than trying to think of what to say. Something like "fuck off" sprung to mind easily. But that was wrong. That would stop this and Rythian wouldn't. He wouldn't. He could control himself.

It was an effort to reign in the anger, the indignation. But he managed to pull it back and sit on it. Let it bubble away underneath him. It was his, and he had the power here. It was his. It was his and why would he ever want to give it away?

Duncan looked him up and down, frowning. "You're pretty overdressed, aren't you?"

Finally, something Rythian could respond to safely. "This is my normal outfit."

Duncan clucked his tongue. "Come on, this isn't a time for normal outfits, it's a special occasion. Start by taking off those bandages on your arms."

Rythian looked down at his wraps. Take them off? He didn't want to. They covered his scars, from potions accidents, fighting monsters, his misspent time with machines, from the burning of Enderbane... It was a diary of his mistakes, and he never wanted anyone to see it. And that was without even bringing up the runes in the fabric, invisible and humming with magic. His emergency defense if he lost his sword, a backup store of power, a secret. A secret only he knew, that wrapped around his skin and reminded him of his power. His ability. His might.

Rythian untied the knot from one, and was about to start unrolling it, when his brain caught up with him. "You're still wearing your labcoat." he pointed out.

Duncan grinned. "This is hardly a normal outfit."

Rythian had to agree, but... "You _always_ wear it."

"Excuse you, I only wear my coat when I do science!"

And he was always doing science. Of course. Rythian groaned and turned his focus back to his arm wraps. It wasn't like it would hurt; every scar he had was long healed. One of the purposes of the wraps was to prevent new injuries. Rythian grit his teeth and started unwinding them.

Duncan stood and watched, humming slightly to himself, clearly amused. Clearly delighting in seeing Rythian do as he asked. Rythian snarled again. It felt good. It was a good response; it didn't require any thought. A quick way to make his disdain known without saying anything he might regret. No, he wouldn't regret it. Wouldn't regret telling Duncan to piss off and get out of his tower and leave him alone.

Rythian finished unwinding his second arm wrap and set them both neatly on a nearby chair. Honestly, he would have felt less naked if Duncan had asked him to take his trousers off. Which the asshole would probably do next, knowing him.

Duncan stepped over to the chair, dumped Rythian's wraps unceremoniously to the floor, and repositioned the chair so he could sit his ass down in front of Rythian. Rythian glared at him, refusing to comment.

"Put your arms together. No, not like-" Duncan frowned at Rythian, then reached out. Rythian twitched, then stopped himself from pulling away. Duncan's hand hesitated a moment, almost touching Rythian's wrist. He lifted his gaze to meet Rythian's eyes, then his hand closed on skin. Rythian sucked in a breath as Duncan adjusted his arms, crossing one wrist over the other. "Stay like that."

Rythian released the breath, and took another. He held his arms crossed, waiting, fists clenching and unclenching, as Duncan tossed away the rope he was carrying and pulled something out of a pocket. Rythian grit his teeth at the roll of electrical tape. Of course the rope had just been a distraction. Duncan grinned at him with more teeth than kindness, and Rythian focused on keeping his breath even as Duncan taped his wrists together. Around, and between and crosswise. Rythian would need a knife to get free again. Why was there a lump in his throat? He swallowed. At least it wasn't cutting into his circulation. And electrical tape was stretchy, it would only expand. He was fine.

Duncan's hand was on his shoulder, patting it. Rythian growled and shrugged it off.

"Sorry, sorry!" Duncan held his hands up in front of his face. "Gonna need words for this next bit, though. How much do you care about that shirt?"

Rythian struggled to drag his thoughts away from his bindings. His shirt? What? It was just- "It's nothing special. Just a cheap shirt. I've got several."

"Great!" Duncan had a knife. Why did he have a knife? Rythian knew this was a bad idea. He pulled away, ready to kick, and Duncan's voice shifted from friendly to commanding abruptly. "Hold still."

Rythian froze. He sucked in a deep breath, and it came out shaky and ragged. Duncan hauled him back up straight again, then twirled the knife in his fingers, surprisingly nimble -- when had he taken off his gloves? -- before taking a handful of Rythian's shirt and slicing it from the neck hole down. It wasn't smooth, a start and stop sawing motion, but the cool air licked Rythian's chest and he had been so, so wrong about how naked he'd felt before.

A pair of slices took off the sleeves, and Duncan was peeling the shirt off Rythian's back. Rythian shivered, though little of it was from the cold in the air. It was nothing that he couldn't adjust to. Rythian automatically started the breathing exercises that would speed that along. Duncan had tucked the knife back into a pocket and stood, walking around the bed and watching him.

When he spoke, the commanding tone was gone, but it hadn't gone back to friendly. It was more detached and considering when he said, "You have more scars than I remember."

Rythian's brain whirled. Which ones were new again? Why was it so hard to remember? "You think that you're the only threat I've faced?"

"Hm?" Duncan leaned in, interest clearly piqued. "You still count me as a threat? That's kind of flattering, actually. Thanks."

"Of course you're still a threat." Rythian's mask was slipping. He started to reach up and fix it, only to be forcefully reminded that his hands were taped together. "I heard about the things you've been doing lately. The spaceship. The war. You're a menace."

Duncan grinned at him, and continued on another circuit around the bed. "Thank you!" he said from behind Rythian.

Then there were hands on the knot for Rythian's scarf. Rythian snarled again, cutting off the jerk of his head as soon as it began. Duncan's fingers stilled briefly, then continued untying the mask. It slipped away, and Rythian swallowed. Of all the scars he carried, the ones on his face were the most shameful. The marks of his arrogance. His folly. His conceit.

Duncan's fingers landed on his collarbone, gently, tracing up his neck. Rythian's breath caught, but the fingers stopped just before reaching his jawbone, and pulled away, allowing Rythian to breathe again.

"Lay back."

Rythian closed his eyes, and dropped himself back onto the bed. With his arms taped, it couldn't be a controlled fall, but it wasn't far, and the bed was soft. He kept his eyes closed as he felt Duncan's breath hit his face. He didn't want to see Duncan's expression when he looked. Didn't want to know what Duncan's first impression of those scars would be. Didn't want to-

"Open your eyes, Rythian."

Rythian opened them. Duncan's face was... curious, but otherwise unreadable. It was frustrating, and terrifying. And the fear infuriated Rythian. Enraged him. He sat on it. He couldn't be angry. He couldn't. Not now. Not when Duncan was tilting his head and opening his mouth to ask, "How did you get these?"

Rythian swallowed. He didn't want to answer. He never wanted anyone to know. "I was a fool."

Duncan raised an eyebrow, but didn't press. Instead he said, "You're still a fool."

Rythian sighed with relief. "We're all fools."

That earned a grin. Rythian closed his eyes again. His heart was pounding and he couldn't tell what had set it off. Too many things were wrong wrong _wrong_ and picking out the worst of the bunch was impossible now. Duncan's hand settled on his forehead, warm and soft. Rythian sighed softly. It was... unnervingly relaxing. On his back, a hand resting gently on his face. Knots relaxed in his shoulders that he hadn't even realized had been forming.

"You're doing well."

Rythian's heart fluttered and he put a vicious effort into keeping himself from smiling. He wasn't going to give the asshole the satisfaction. He wasn't going to be put on a leash by a tiny bit of praise when he was- Rythian swallowed and forced the thought through. When he was vulnerable.

The hand left his forehead, and fingers traced down his cheek and along his jawline. Rythian started to reach up and yank them away, and stopped himself, once again reminded of his bindings. He could still- they wouldn't _prevent_ him from grabbing Duncan. He could still- he lowered his hands again.

Duncan's fingers traced his lips, slowly. Rythian concentrated on wiggling his toes, trying to distract himself. A finger dipped between his lips. Rythian almost bit down reflexively. The finger was joined by another. Prodding. Pulling. Rythian relaxed his jaw and allowed the fingers to press against his lips, nudging his mouth open. He had to look. He had to know. How was Duncan looking at him? What expression was on his face? Rythian held his eyes closed as tightly as he could. The fingers shifted and -- that was a _strange_ feeling -- brushed over his teeth. His misshapen, monstrous teeth. Teeth made for- for biting into living flesh. Teeth made for holding onto prey.

Rythian's breath slipped out of his control, fast and panting. The hand pulled away and was on his side, turning him over. Rythian gasped, gulping desperately for air.

"Rythian! Hey, breathe!" Duncan smacked a hand on his back and Rythian could breathe again. He sucked down air, feeling his lungs burning and heaving. How had he lost control like that? He wasn't even exercising! Just... lying there. Allowing himself to be touched.

He opened his eyes, meeting the Duncan's soft, concerned gaze. "You okay?"

"I'll-" Rythian coughed, took another breath. "I'll be fine."

Duncan didn't look convinced. "Maybe you should stay on your side for a bit?" He patted Rythian on the hip, his fingertips just barely brushing the skin over the waist of Rythian's trousers. Rythian twitched. "Rythian?" Rythian managed to nod. "Good!"

Duncan moved around the bed, and crouched down by Rythian's feet. This was the only part of Rythian's outfit he'd left off, his shoes downstairs by the door. Duncan sat down in the chair and pulled Rythian's feet into his lap. "I've been learning how to give foot rubs!"

Rythian didn't ask whom Duncan had been practicing on. He didn't want to hear names. Not now. He curled his head forward so he could watch while Duncan pressed his thumbs into the sole of one of Rythian's feet, stroking hard enough to avoid tickling. It did feel nice. Sore feet were just one small mark on the list of things Rythian had learned to live with. They barely even registered these days. Sometimes at the end of the day it felt wonderful just putting them up while he read a book before bed. That was pretty much the most attention he bothered paying his feet.

This was better than that. Much better. He could almost feel the blood flow improving. Tight muscles loosened, and stretched. Rythian couldn't stop the soft, pleased groan. The light of Duncan's grin made him shut his eyes again. Actually, that was even better. Eyes closed, it was easier to lose himself in the rubbing. In the touch. It wasn't only his feet which were relaxing now. His back ached suddenly as something in it loosened, and he whimpered, but it was a good ache. When Duncan paused in his foot rubbing at the sound, Rythian waved his foot until it was grabbed again.

Once Duncan had thoroughly rubbed down both feet, and Rythian was beginning to feel like his joints were turning into jam, Duncan stood, dropping Rythian's feet back to the floor. Rythian didn't bother to look, rolling onto his stomach and murmuring wordlessly into the mattress.

"Feel better, Rythian?"

Rythian managed a motion that seemed to pass muster as a nod. The bed shifted from the weight of Duncan sitting down behind him. Hands were on his back. Was Duncan going to rub his back down, too? Rythian would probably melt. But no, the hands trailed along the waist of his trousers. They settled on his hip and pushed him back onto his side. Rythian made a grumpy noise of complaint, but settled into place.

His buckle was being undone. This was important for some reason, but Rythian was having trouble placing why. He opened his eyes to squint at Duncan. Duncan's shirt was off, and where was his labcoat? Oh. There. Draped over the end of the bed. And the shirt was beside it. Missing objects placed, Rythian turned his attention back to his belt just as Duncan pulled it away.

"Mrf." Rythian mouth felt as mushy as his joints. But the sound caught Duncan's attention.

The concerned expression was back, and Rythian couldn't understand why. Who would ever be concerned over him? He wasn't even injured. "Rythian? You still in there?"

A hand cupped his chin, which made it hard to nod, but Rythian gave it a game effort. Yes/no questions were easy. And his nod made Duncan smile, which was better than the confusing concern. Duncan took his hand off Rythian's chin and patted him on the shoulder. "Good boy."

Rythian knew he should have objected to that, but the reason why was... far away. He could probably reach it if he stretched, but why waste the energy? His trousers were being slid down and that was far more important. "Mrf."

"I can't understand you when you mumble."

Rythian moved his mouth around, reminding himself of the feel of it, then tried again. "Why?"

The trousers had stopped half-way down his thighs. He still had on his underwear, but Duncan had the tips of his fingers on the elastic. "Why what?"

Rythian frowned. He wasn't sure how to put his question into words. He grumbled a bit, then rolled his shoulder in an attempt at a shrug. "Nevermind."

Duncan stared down at him a moment, then gave him a light slap on the cheek. "I asked you a question, _Rythian_."

Rythian's mouth worked silently again, as he tried to process getting _slapped_. After all the soft touches and gentle handling, it was a shock. On the other hand, it made more sense. Rythian growled, only to get slapped again.

"Answer me, Rythian."

"I don't know." Rythian forced out, teeth bared.

And that got him a smile. It was baffling. What was Duncan trying to _get_ out of him? The hands moved off his underwear, and back to his trousers. "Is this a problem, Rythian?"

The trousers slid down an inch. Yes. No. Rythian shook his head. The worst part was the confusion, really. Not at the trousers, or the foot rubs, or anything else. At everything. The whole of it. A fuzzy reminder popped up that they'd talked most of this out beforehand. Not... exact actions, but... limits. Rules.

Maybe if they'd discussed what might happen _inside_ the limits, Rythian's head wouldn't be swimming so much. His trousers were slid down to his knees now. The hands returned to his underwear, hooking in and pulling just lightly enough not to move them. Duncan was watching him, waiting for something, but Rythian had no idea what to do, or say. He wanted Duncan to go away. He didn't want to be alone. He wanted-... He swiped his tongue across dry lips, and that must have counted as communication, because his underwear went down in one smooth pull, joining his trousers around his knees. His penis tingled as the tip of it brushed against the mattress.

Duncan looked down at him, and the slight tilt of his head sent a hot flush of shame through Rythian's spine, burning away most of the fog in his mind. He folded over, pushing his arms down, straining the binding in an attempt to cover himself, only to have Duncan grab his wrists and push them back up.

"No. Rythian, don't." Rythian bared his teeth again, and Duncan gave him another slap. "Bad boy!" Rythian whined. No, he didn't deserve that! He was only trying to cover himself. It was- it was horrible. Shameful. Ugly. "Let me see, Rythian."

Rythian slowly uncurled. Duncan's hand rested on his hip, and the head tilt was back. Considering, though Rythian couldn't understand what was there to consider. The scars, glowing a faint purple like he'd been tattooed with jellyfish essence. The dark greyish tint to the skin. The inhuman ridges, like something you might see on a sex toy, but not on a real- on a human. What had he been thinking, trying such a transformation? He was fortunate that all the... leftovers... had been so easy to conceal. Clothes and a mask, and he was just another scarred up warrior. Any... closeness... that might reveal his shame was easy to give up.

This had been a terrible idea. He trembled under that quiet stare. He couldn't close his eyes now. He had to watch for the moment when Duncan would turn away in disgust. It was delusional to imagine he could put it off by not seeing it.

The expression didn't change as Duncan moved a hand and placed it on Rythian's thigh, rubbing his thumb gently against the skin. "Rythian, you're going to say something for me."

What, that he was a freak? The he was disgusting? Rythian breathed deep, braced himself, and nodded.

"Say, 'I am naked, and my cock is out.' "

Rythian spluttered. What? What the hell was- why?! What the hell was Duncan's game?

"Say it."

Rythian licked his lips. "Er. I am- I am-" he trailed off, frowning. It was senseless. It was stupid. It had _nothing to do_ with his disfigurement. He yelped in surprise as Duncan slapped him again.

"Say it, Rythian."

"I am... naked?" Rythian paused to take another breath and, passing all of his confusion to his voice, finished, "and my cock is out?"

"Good boy." Duncan ruffled Rythian's bangs. "You did a good job."

Rythian leaned into the touch before he could stop himself. And then, he didn't stop himself. Duncan gave him a light scratching, then patted his head and smile down at him. "You're being very good."

Rythian laughed, weak and shaky. Was that really all Duncan had wanted? It was... hardly even embarrassing compared to the rest of this. He was naked, and his cock was out. It was true. The words weren't any stranger than the reality.

Then Duncan's hand was on his cock, and he gasped, then laughed. He couldn't stop laughing. A hand on each head? It was ridiculous. He bet Duncan had done it on purpose. That was just the sense of humor that idiot had. His laughter hitched and sputtered to a stop as Duncan began stroking him. He sucked in his lower lip and bit it, hard enough to hurt. It was... it had been a long time since he'd-... It wasn't often that he touched himself, and since the last time someone else had? He couldn't even remember it any more.

"Shh... You're a good boy." Duncan's hand on his head was stroking his hair in time with the one stroking his shaft. Rythian felt like he was being dragged in different directions. He wanted to laugh because this was _ridiculous_. There was a _hand on his cock_. And Duncan kept praising him and that-... he couldn't even identify how he felt about that. He pressed his head against one hand, and bucked his hips against the other, and then it was too late. He came.

"Bit quick there."

Rythian's teeth sank into his lip, but he kept biting down. Shit. Shit shit shit shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit. He came too fast. He wanted to curl up and cry, but Duncan's hand tightened in his hair, restraining his head painfully.

"Rythian." Duncan was still stroking his penis, and it was too sensitive now, it- it wasn't _pain_ , but Rythian squirmed, wanting to get away but- "Hold still." But Duncan was going to tell him not to. He stilled, and let the hand stroke him. His face was wet and he was flushed from orgasm and the shame of crying in front of someone. "Good. Good boy, Rythian." The hand left and Rythian whined. The loss wasn't as painful as the touch, but- he missed it.

"Rythian, I'm going to sit you up." Rythian had no time to brace himself, as soon as Duncan had said it, he was hauling Rythian up, pulling him against a wide, fluffy chest. Rythian's head landed on a shoulder, a wisp of hair tickling his cheek. "There we go."

The backs of Rythian's hands were sunk into soft fluff, and his wiggled his fingers in the hair. Duncan laughed, and patted him on the back. "Come on, Rythian. Try to sit up on your own."

If Rythian had felt like jam before, now he had officially transformed completely, but he managed to peel himself off Duncan and wobble into something resembling upright. Duncan was wriggling in place, trying to get his trousers off without standing. Rythian's head tilted slowly side to side, like it was a box on a slippery ship deck, but he kept his gaze fixed on Duncan's hands as they shoved the fabric down and away. The trousers got flung somewhere Rythian didn't bother to track, and Duncan's underwear followed. The hands came forward, stopping just before touching the erect cock waiting there, framing it.

"Do you want to touch me?" Duncan asked, and Rythian didn't know. He shrugged, and Duncan narrowed his eyes at him. "I think maybe you should touch me."

Rythian wiggled his fingers, a reminder that his hands were still bound.

"Well, you'll have to do it some other way then, won't you?" Duncan looked thoughtful for a moment, then ordered, "Get on the floor."

Rythian swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stand right now. Maybe in a few minutes, but he was all loose and shaky. He planted his feet on the ground and braced himself.

Duncan interrupted. "I didn't say stand, Rythian. Get on the floor."

Rythian shot him a look of confusion. How was he supposed to reach anything down there?

"On your knees, Rythian."

Oh. Rythian tucked his feet under the bed and dropped forward onto his knees. It was a painful jolt, and only Duncan's hand catching his shoulder kept him from falling on his face. With the help, he managed to get himself turned around and facing the bed, on his knees, framed by Duncan's spread legs. There was still a cock, waiting for him.

Rythian licked the moisture back into his lips. This was probably a bad idea. His tongue hit the spot where he'd bit his lip earlier. Nevermind, it was a terrible idea. Why in the world would Duncan want his teeth anywhere _near_ that cock. Duncan's hand moved from his shoulder back into his hair, scratching gently. "Rythian." he said, tone warning.

Rythian leaned forward, tongue out, and gave it a lick. Duncan scratched his head again, smiling. Rythian licked it again, then, carefully keeping his teeth closed, wrapped his lips over the tip. The foreskin was strange under his tongue, loose and wiggly. He wanted to slide it down, but his hands weren't available. He cracked his teeth open just a little, just enough that he could try to shove it down with his tongue.

Duncan was laughing, and somewhere inside the looseness Rythian had been drifting in, there was a flash of anger. He stomped it down and focused on the dick. He wouldn't put it in his mouth. He wouldn't risk it to his teeth. He moved his head and resumed licking at it.

Duncan sighed. "Rythian, get back on the bed."

Rythian stopped, confused, but forced himself to stand and drop back on the bed, turning on his side and giving Duncan a curious look. "Mrf?" he asked, and then corrected himself to, "Why stop?"

Duncan shook his head. "You were kinda doing a crap job." Rythian sagged into the mattress. "I shouldn't have- I should have realized. I mean, you did say you've never really done anything like that before."

Rythian rolled onto his other side, his back hitting Duncan's knee. He stared at the window on the wall. It was dark out. He'd never even realized the sun had set. His fingers were tingling, as if they'd come close to falling asleep but hadn't. He wiggled them to get the blood flowing. Things were feeling... the looseness was fading away. Duncan's hand returned to his head, rubbing.

"It's alright, Rythian. You did a good job tonight. You were a good boy."

Rythian curled up, turning his face into the mattress to hide his tears. He was stupid. Stupid and this was stupid and- Duncan heaved him up and hugged him. "Shh. Shh, Rythian. I'm proud of you."

Rythian felt a stab of resentment that he'd ever need Duncan to be _proud_ of him at the same time as the words soaked into him like desert rainfall. He choked on a sob, and bit down on his lip again. Blood trickled down his chin and he didn't care because Duncan was proud of him- _who cares what he thinks about me I don't need_ \- and he'd been good and had done a good job- _good job doing what? getting a hand job and losing your mind over head scritches?_ and Duncan was hugging him and-

Rythian burst into tears while Duncan held him, rubbing his back.

After a few minutes, Rythian managed to stop himself. He licked his lips and pulled out of Duncan's arms. "Duncan." Duncan sagged, pouting, but when Rythian said, "Take the tape off." he got a pocket knife out of his coat and sliced Rythian free.

Rythian peeled off the tape, wincing as it pulled at his hairs, then rubbed his wrists. They were sore, and the tape had left angry red marks wherever the adhesive had touched, but they didn't itch and he'd never gone numb. He had to admit it was a competent enough job. He pulled his pants up from where they'd dropped to his ankles. The belt was across the room, but he wasn't planning on standing just yet. For one, his knees were still sore and wobbly, and for two...

"You can finish yourself off." Rythian made a tiny gesture with his chin.

Duncan clearly read it correctly, looking down at his still erect cock. "I don't have to."

Rythian swallowed. It was uncomfortable, while he was still fuzzy around the edges, but he made himself say it. "Duncan, have a wank."

Duncan laughed, and didn't need any further encouragement to have at it, starting to stroke himself. Rythian didn't watch. Out of the corner of his eye. He certainly didn't stare. He didn't watch, wide-eyed, fascinated at the way Duncan's face changed as he closed his eyes and focused on whatever fantasy lay behind them. As he brought himself close, and over. As he opened his eyes and brought his fingers up for a sniff, then wrinkled his nose and laughed. "Smell my cum!" He thrust the fingers towards Rythian, still laughing. Rythian smacked his hand away, his cheek twitching as he held back the smile.

"You're disgusting." Rythian said, with a fondness he hadn't expected. Duncan shrugged, and dug through a coat pocket, pulling out a couple of glass bottles.

"Beer?"

Rythian sputtered, then laughed and accepted one. "Thanks."

Duncan took a swig of his, then paused. "Hey, Rythian? Do you think we should..." He gestured vaguely for a moment, then gave up on whatever he was attempting to show. "Maybe talk about it?"

"No." Rythian frowned. "Maybe." He sighed. "Yes. But... not now."

Duncan shrugged, but Rythian thought his expression carried a bit of relief. "Okay." He took another drink. "Rythian?"

"What?" Duncan twitched a hand upwards, and Rythian scowled at it. Duncan sighed and started to pull it back. "Go ahead." Duncan blinked at him in surprise, so Rythian added, "It's fine."

They sat for a while, drinking their beers, one of Duncan's hands buried in Rythian's hair. It was, Rythian would never admit out loud, a pleasant enough end to a long evening.

Waking up in the morning tangled together and breathing each other's morning breath was entirely another matter.

=== === ===

**Author's Note:**

> I confess to a degree of ignorance of the kink community. While I frequently read on the subject, I have never participated, and there are many things I do not know. If this fic contains any elements that are problematic, please send me a _polite_ message, or leave a _polite_ comment, and we can discuss it either privately or publicly, as you prefer.


End file.
